Circle of Life
by storylover18
Summary: A story of John and Mary's married life. Please don't let the prospect of Mary scare you away. Yes, Sherlock and John's relationship will change but it will not dissolve - Sherlock will still be around! There will be lots of different scenes throughout the chapters. Rated K unless otherwise stated in chapter heading. Joy or sorrow, rain or shine-it's all part of the circle of life.
1. Introduction

Hello my fellow readers and writers!

This is, simply, and introduction to a series that I've obviously entitled _Circle of Life_ that will revolve around John and Mary's life together as a married couple. Sherlock, no doubt, will make an appearance regularly given that John's John and Sherlock's Sherlock and no one could ever keep those two apart. Unfortunately, because this will be written chronologically, the chapters will need to be read in order to make sense.

I'll just get a few business matters out of the way here so I don't have to do it for every chapter.

1) I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters created by Canon Doyle/BBC/any other production company. However, the OC's that will eventually come up are my own creation.

2) I am deeply indebted to _Cumberbatch Critter_ for her influence in these stories. Because this series is based on an RPG we've done, many of situations and Sherlock's responses are influenced by her ideas and creativity. Thank you so much, Summer!

Okay, I think that's it … wait. One more thing … because this series is going to be VERY long, I can't promise updates regularly but I will do my best! If it's been awhile, feel free to pester me for an update.

Oh! Another thing (and I promise this is the last one) … while the story is rated K, there may be some chapters that are pushed to a higher rating given the content but I'll put that at the top of the chapter should that be the case. But by and large, content is suitable for all readers.

I hope you enjoy _Circle of Life_ and happy reading and writing!

StoryLover18


	2. The Queen's Sacrifice

_The Queen's Sacrifice_

* * *

"You're going to ask her to marry you."

"What?" John asked from the sofa. He was reading the paper one late afternoon in October. Outside, it was sunny and an unusually warm breeze was blowing through the city of London. The few places that trees could be seen showed them a beautiful collage of orange, red, and yellow.

"Mary. You're going to ask her to marry you tonight."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You keep feeling your left jacket pocket, undoubtedly making sure the ring you spend an unrealistic amount of money on is still there."

John sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a velvet ring box. Sherlock came over and took the box from John's hand, opening it to reveal a beautiful white gold ring with a diamond set in the middle, encased by smaller diamonds on all sides.

"Not a cheap ring," Sherlock said, holding it up to the ceiling. "Fourteen karat white gold?"

John nodded.

"Nice." Sherlock put the ring back in the box and handed it to John again. John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock retreated to the kitchen, slipping the ring back into the pocket of his blazer. _Nice_? That was an odd response coming from the detective. John stood and followed Sherlock into the kitchen.

"Do you think she'll like it?"

"Of course she will." Sherlock said. "She's a woman and it's a real diamond."

"Do you think she'll say yes?"

"One can only hope." Sherlock muttered under his breath. "I would hate to have to put up with you pouting all day because she turned you down."

"Sherlock."

John was nervous enough without Sherlock teasing him – although John was fairly certain the detective was not teasing him at all.

"What?"

"I'm serious. Do you think she'll say yes?"

"Of course she'll say yes. I've seen you together. It's obvious she's head over heels in love with you and you with her."

Sherlock's tone indicated that he found the entire relationship rather nauseating … which he did. It was bad enough that John had found a girlfriend on one of their cases but the fact that he had fallen in love with her made him sick to his stomach. And now he was going to ask her to _marry_ him. How could anyone just settle down like that with one person for the rest of their lives? Sherlock couldn't imagine being tied down so tightly.

"You'd better be off, then."

"Sorry?"

"The time … you're picking Mary up at seven, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Then you'd better go. It's half past six already."

"Oh, right." John reached for his mobile and wallet, taking them from the counter.

"Wish me luck."

"How many times do I have to tell you there's no such thing as luck?" Sherlock's eyes were now looking into his microscope and he wasn't paying attention. At times like this, John really wished he had a best friend who more encouraging.

"Don't wait up." John called as he descended the stairs. Sherlock waited a moment before pulling away from the microscope and walking to the window. He watched John get a cab and drive off.

It was a bit unsettling, John proposing to Mary. It meant that John would no longer live at 221B with him, he wouldn't be around on cases, nor would he have dinner with Sherlock in the wee hours of the morning at the Chinese restaurant down the street. Sherlock felt sad – was this sadness? Sherlock found it hard to tell – by the prospect of losing his flat-mate. He didn't know why John had agreed to live with him again after he had returned after Reichenbach, although he had been glad when he did. Life was going to be different without his blogger.

* * *

John was nervous, there was no denying that fact. What if she said no? Sherlock had said she'd say yes and Sherlock was never wrong … but what if he was?

These were the thoughts filling John's mind as he and Mary had dinner at Angelo's restaurant – John was _still_ trying to prove to Angelo that he was not gay.

"John?" Mary asked, reaching out and touching John's hand. John felt himself jump and a blush crept up his cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked, a kind smile on her face.

"Of course I'm alright," John said, picking up his fork again. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem out of sorts tonight," Mary said. "Did you and Sherlock have a row?"

"No, it's nothing like that." John said quickly. "Just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

"Can I help?"

"No." John said with a smile. "Thank you, though."

Mary and John finished their supper and John asked if Mary wanted to take a walk along the Thames. Arms entwined, they walked down the busy street past Tower Bridge. The city was bustling, as per usual, and lights twinkled in the reflection of the Thames River.

"I have a surprise for you." John said, pulling Mary aside.

"A surprise?"

"Yes. Come on, it's this way."

John led an unknowing Mary down to a dock where a boat was waiting for them. It was strung with small white lights and the boat's captain was anticipating them.

"Is there an occasion?" Mary asked as the captain helped her step into the small vessel.

"I just thought you'd enjoy seeing London from the water." John said, climbing in after her. They snuggled up on the upholstered bench and the captain directed the boat away from the dock.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Mary asked as they passed under Tower Bridge.

"It is," John agreed. They continued under London Bridge, Southwark Bridge, the Millennium Bridge, Blackfriars Bridge, Waterloo Bridge, and finally Westminster Bridge. The captain was watching John and just as they emerged from under Westminster Bridge, when Parliament and Big Ben came into view, John nodded discretely. The captain slowed the boat to a stop.

"Why are we stopping?" Mary asked, looking at John. John could feel his heart pounding … this was it.

"I have to apologize to you." he said, shifting uncomfortably.

"For what?"

"I lied to you … when you asked if there was an occasion and I said no. I was lying."

"Alright, then what's the occasion?"

John cleared his throat. He had thought for a long time about what to say to Mary.

"I love you," he said. "More than anything in the world and I can't imagine living without you. So I was wondering …"

John slid off the bench onto one knee and pulled out the ring box, opening it.

"I was wondering if you would marry me."

Mary's mouth had fallen open as John had gotten to his knee and she stared at the ring in the velvet box. She didn't say anything and John felt the blood drain from his face.

"Mary?" he asked meekly.

"Yes." she said after another minute, a smile lighting up her face. "Of course I will."

John felt a huge weight lift off his chest and he took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto Mary's finger before getting off his knee and sitting back on the bench. Mary leaned forward and kissed him.

"I had no idea … I can't believe you arranged all of this!" she exclaimed, holding out her hand to look at the ring again.

"Only the best for you," John said. "Do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous." Mary answered immediately and John smiled. The captain had pulled out the dozen red roses John had bought earlier that afternoon and handed them to John, who in turn, gave them to Mary. She closed her eyes and sniffed them, breathing in the sweet aroma, before opening her eyes and kissing John again. She snuggled into him and John put his arm around his fiancé. The captain started the boat again and they drifted down the Thames, stopping just past the next bridge. The boat was pulled to the dock with thick ropes and John helped Mary out before thanking the captain for everything. Together, the pair made their way up to the road and John hailed a cab. After kissing Mary goodnight and seeing her home, John arrived back at 221B. He unlocked the door and went upstairs, feeling too excited to go to bed.

"How did it go?" a voice asked from the dark room and John jumped. He flicked the light switch and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair, a cuppa on the table next to him.

"She said yes." John answered, hanging his coat on a hook.

"I told you she would."

"I know you did." John answered, flopping onto the couch. "I can't believe it. I'm going to get married, Sherlock."

"I know."

John frowned slightly.

"You could be a little more enthusiastic about it, you know."

"Could I?"

"Yes … she makes me happy, Sherlock."

"I just don't understand how you can submit to a life of misery."

"It's not misery," John said with a laugh. "We love each other."

"Love is just a chemical defect - "

"Found in the losing side, I know." John said. "But it's not a game this time."

"Everything's a game to someone."

"Not this, not to me." John answered.

"I didn't say it had to be a game for you."

"Then who's it a game for?"

"Does it matter?" Sherlock asked. "You're getting married whether anyone wants to stop you or not."

"No, I guess it doesn't." John said. He couldn't help the smile from forming on his lips and Sherlock sighed. He still didn't understand love … it was basic chemistry mixed with physical attraction.

Sherlock studied John. It had been almost six years since they had first met and Sherlock had found the one person he would be closest to in his entire life … and now someone named Mary was taking that from him. It was a game to him and this was his Queen's sacrifice. John may now belong to Mary but he wouldn't let her take him, too. He would win the game … even if it meant being alone in the end. The moment John said "I do" would be the moment he and John parted ways. Sherlock had no desire to be part of their wedded bliss; he was independent and he didn't care about anyone besides John. He wasn't willing to accommodate Mary just to fool himself into thinking that he was still John's best friend.

"When's the wedding?" Sherlock asked, wondering if he even needed to attend. He realized rather quickly that John would insist upon it … just another painful part of the game.

"We didn't even talk about it. Probably next spring or summer."

Sherlock nodded. Good … that gave him a few more months until he lost his friend.

**Reviews are highly appreciated! Thank you! **


	3. A Bull in a China Shop

_A Bull in a China Shop_

* * *

"Which one do you like, John?" Mary asked. John looked up from trying to discreetly check his watch.

"Whichever one you like."

It was the safest fiancé response in the book.

Usually.

"John," Mary complained. "Don't tell me that. I want you to like the dish pattern we pick so which one do you like?"

"I'm sorry, Mary," John said. "But I don't really care what plates we use."

Mary sighed and John cringed. That was her annoyed sigh … her I'm-going-to-get-angry sigh.

"Fine, then go. I'll finish here."

"Mary," John started.

"No. Go." Mary interrupted. "If you can't be bothered to give me an honest opinion, your time is better spent elsewhere. So go."

"It's not that I don't _want_ to give you an honest opinion," John said. "I just really don't care."

Mary glared at him. Obviously, this was the wrong thing to say.

"Then go." Mary repeated, turning back to the different displays of dishes. "I mean it, leave. I'll do it myself."

John sighed. It wasn't that he wasn't excited to be planning their wedding … it was just that he really _didn't_ care about the china patterns or if the candles were pink or white or if the chairs should have bows tied to them. He really couldn't care less about anything besides his beautiful bride-to-be coming down the aisle and saying 'I do.'

John knew Mary well enough to do as she said – she would cool off eventually – and he left the store. The sales clerk gave him a sympathetic smile as John passed him and John got the distinct impression he heard this type of argument before.

Out on the sidewalk, John pulled out his mobile.

_Where are you? _

_St. Bart's lab. Experiment. SH_

_On my way. _

John pocketed the mobile and set off to the old hospital, finding Sherlock bending over a Petri dish of something that was bubbling.

"I thought you and Mary were picking out china," Sherlock said without looking up.

"We had a row," John said shortly. "What are you working on? Is it for the case?"

"No, solved that about an hour ago. I'm testing the acidity of stomach acid after over dosing on various medications."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

John sighed. He hated this question because it was _never_ obvious.

"To see what drug they over-dosed on?" John guessed lamely.

"Right."

"What?" John exclaimed. He was never right. "Why? Couldn't you just use a standard toxicology report?"

"Records can be changed, John." Sherlock said. "No one ever thinks about the stomach acidity on a post-mortem report. Except me, of course."

"Do I want to even know how you're testing this?" John asked. Surely Sherlock hadn't found volunteers to be experiments.

"Use your brain, John," Sherlock answered. "It's not hard. Find stomach acid that has a normal pH balance, dissolve various medications in it, wait a few minutes, and test the pH again. Simple."

"Right."

It was rather simple, John had to admit.

* * *

John's hope of Mary coming around soon did not work out as planned. John spent the afternoon with Sherlock and they went back to the flat after getting some take away. John reckoned he ought to call Mary so he did, only to be told she was busy with wedding details.

He tried again the next morning and got the same answer.

Three days passed, then a week.

"What's wrong with you?" Sherlock asked one morning as he came into the sitting room. John was slumped on the sofa, looking tired.

"Couldn't sleep. Mary won't talk to me."

"And that kept you up all night?" Sherlock asked.

John scowled at him and Sherlock sighed. He sensed this was one of those be-a-good-friend moments and he asked something he didn't particularly want to get involved with.

"What did she say when you last spoke?"

"That I wouldn't care about what she was working on."

"Which was?"

John shrugged.

"Something for the wedding, I'm sure."

Sherlock sighed again. This was all so _stupid_. Why bother a big, white wedding anyways? And their wedding was going to be big – over a hundred and fifty guests – and well, black rather than white. Black tie, to be specific.

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and sent a text, sliding the phone back into his suit pocket before he picked up his violin.

* * *

Mary pulled her mobile from her purse when it vibrated. She glanced at the text, not recognizing the number. However, she opened it and read:

_John seriously ill. Baker Street._

Mary quickly left the stationary store and got a cab to 221B and knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson let her in and, feeling rude, Mary quickly said hello and ran up the stairs.

"John?" she called as she entered the flat.

"What are you doing here?" John exclaimed, sitting up from his slouched position.

"Are you okay?" Mary exclaimed. "I got a text saying you were ill. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," John retorted. "Who was the text from?"

"Me." Sherlock said, standing from his chair.

"How did you get my number?" Mary asked as John exclaimed,

"You? What were you texting _her_ for?"

"From John's mobile, obviously." Sherlock answered. "Although I was rather hoping to avoid this situation. I don't want to receive texts from you at midnight wondering where John is. I won't respond so don't bother."

Sherlock turned to John.

"And I texted her because you won't and I'm sick of you pouting all the time."

John stood up indignantly.

"I'm not pouting and I have been trying to talk to her. _She_ keeps hanging up on me."

"Only because I'm too busy trying to plan _our_ wedding," Mary exclaimed. "And _you_ find that boring!"

"I didn't say that! I said I don't care what the china patterns are. And I still don't."

"But how am I supposed to decide by myself? It's _our_ wedding, John, not just mine. I want your opinion on which design you like best. It's not rocket science telling me if you like the white china with silver trim or gold."

"Okay, okay, okay," Sherlock said, stepping between the two lovebirds – or so they were supposed to be called. They weren't very lovely right now.

Sherlock turned to Mary and spoke bluntly.

"Look. We're men. We don't really care what dishes you pick or what kind of flowers you carry. All John probably cares about is what happens after the reception is over, anyways."

Sherlock then turned to John, who looked annoyed at what Sherlock just said.

"And while I completely sympathize with having to look at every colour swatch possible, she is your bride to be so make her happy. Tell her what plates to use even if it doesn't matter."

Sherlock sighed, pushing past Mary again and settling back to his chair.

"For two people who claim to love each other, you're getting caught up on pretty small details so quickly."

While Sherlock's advice had been a bit crude, John glanced at Mary with a sheepish smile on his face. He was relieved to see it mirrored on Mary's face.

"I'm sorry." John said.

"Me, too." Mary replied, giving John a hug. John put his arms around Mary, keeping one of them over her shoulder as she pulled away.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Mary said. "We're lucky to have you."

"I'd better not be getting any texts about marriage counselling, either." Sherlock mumbled. Mary ignored what Sherlock said and continued.

"Actually, John was going to ask you something …"

She looked up at John, who glanced at Sherlock.

"I was wondering if you'd be my best man."

"Your what?"

"Best man … you know, stand beside me at the alter and sign the marriage register?"

"And give my written consent as you do the stupidest thing of your life?"

It was – and had never been – a secret of what Sherlock thought of this marriage.

"No, thank you."

"Please?" John asked. "I want you to be part of our day. You're my best friend."

Not for long, Sherlock thought, but he sighed. This was another one of those social conventions that dictated him to agree and pretend to be happy about his newly assigned role all because John had called him his 'best friend'.

"Fine." Sherlock said. "But no speeches."

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to give a speech as the best man but it seemed like a good precautionary clause.

"That's fine." John said, smiling. He honestly thought it'd take more to convince Sherlock to take the title but this had been fairly simple. John turned to Mary.

"Did you decide on a dish pattern?"

Mary shook her head.

"Then let's go … just let me change."

John dashed upstairs, leaving Mary and Sherlock. Sherlock did not like the arrangement.

"Thank you for agreeing," Mary said. "It means a lot to him."

"I know." Sherlock said. He did understand and, although he would never tell anyone, this would be his grand finale in John's life … he had always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Ready to go?" John asked, coming down the stairs. Mary nodded and smiled.

"See you later, Sherlock," John called as they started down the stairs. Sherlock didn't mutter a response – John was already gone with his bride-to-be – although he did pull out his mobile and opened a message to John.

_Not that it matters or that I care but tell her you like the silver lined plates. It's much classier. SH _

**Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for the encouragement … it's more than I expected, honestly. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and reviews are always appreciated! Thank you =) **


	4. The Beginning of the End

_The Beginning of the End_

* * *

"Sherlock, are you almost ready?" John called through the closed bedroom door. "We have to leave," he checked his watch. "Now."

Sherlock sighed from behind the door. He studied himself in the mirror, fixing his bowtie. Honestly, he looked so /stupid/.

"Sherlock?" John called again just as Sherlock opened the door. "Good, you're ready. You look nice."

"I already agreed to wear the tux, John," Sherlock said, slipping his mobile from the table into the jacket pocket. "No need to flatter me. It's nauseating."

"Right." John said. "Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Sherlock said with a sigh, leading the way down the stairs. "I can't believe you're about to get married. I never thought you'd make such a stupid mistake."

"It's not stupid," John said, stepping onto the sidewalk and holding his hand up for a taxi. "I love her, Sherlock."

"So?"

"Never mind." John said as the cab pulled into traffic. "You wouldn't understand."

"Probably not."

Sherlock knew he wasn't being encouraging. He knew what he was saying would hurt John – not that he hadn't said it before – but he wasn't going to change his opinion just because it was John's wedding day. The rest of the cab ride was spent in silence, until, that is, the cab pulled up to the sidewalk by the church.

"You have the rings, right?"

"No. Why would I have your wedding rings?"

John paled slightly.

"I gave them to you last night. Where did you put them?"

"You didn't give them to me." Sherlock answered stubbornly.

"Yes, I did. You were looking through the microscope and you said to put them on the counter. Why," he said more to himself. "I would _ever_ be stupid enough to leave them there? They probably got mixed in with whatever concoction you were making last night."

"But that means the data I collected wasn't accurate."

John glared at Sherlock.

"We have bigger problems than your experiment, Sherlock." John said. "Like what I'm supposed to put on Mary's finger or better yet, how to explain that I _lost_ the rings."

"Calm down," Sherlock said, pulling out his mobile. "Don't worry about the rings. I'll get them sorted out."

"Calm down?" John repeated. He couldn't be calm if he tried. "What am I supposed to tell Mary?"

"Don't tell her anything." Sherlock said, tapping away at his mobile. "She doesn't need to know."

"Are you two getting out or what?" the cabbie asked, turning around. "Wait any longer and I'd say you were getting cold feet."

John glared at the taxi driver, handed him the fare, and got out.

"I'll be back." Sherlock said after John asked if he was coming. John slammed the door – he wasn't really angry with Sherlock as much as he was annoyed with himself but he knew Sherlock would find another set of rings and everything would be alright – and crossed the sidewalk to the church.

Inside he found his parents and Mary's father waiting. Mary and Harry were in a sectioned off room, lest John see the bride before the wedding.

"Where's Sherlock?" John's mum, Eleanor, asked.

"He had to run out for something," John answered nervously. He checked his watch; only ten minutes till the ceremony was about to start. The priest officiating the service came and greeted John with a handshake, asking if he was ready. John swallowed and nodded. He followed the minister into another room where the bridal party would gather before commencing. Harry emerged a few minutes later, wearing her bridesmaid's dress.

"You look beautiful," John said, kissing her cheek.

"This is nothing." Harry said with a playful glint in her eye. "Wait till you see the bride."

John smiled, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. Harry looked around.

"Where's that jerk you call a friend?"

Sherlock and Harry had had problems from the moment they met. They truly despised each other; the punch in the face Sherlock had received at their first meeting was evidence of the depth of their hate.

"He'll be here." John said, checking his watch.

"Doubt it." Harry said, sitting in one of the armchairs.

* * *

Sherlock, meanwhile, was frantically on the phone with Mycroft, who happened to already be at the church. Upon hearing the situation, Mycroft had excused himself politely from his seat and made a couple of quick calls. Sherlock had been pacing up and down the street nearby as the taxi stood, waiting for him.

"Are you almost ready?" the taxi driver asked.

"No." Sherlock snapped. "I'll pay you double. Just wait."

Sherlock went back to tapping the phone in his hand impatiently, almost dropping it when it vibrated.

_Two rings waiting at Estate. Ask for Jillian. M _

_PS – Don't be late. _

Sherlock had barely read the text before jumping back into the cab and ordering the driver to take him to the Holmes Estate.

* * *

"Are we almost set to go?" the priest asked, coming into the small room again. Harry had gone back down to help Mary with last minute details, leaving John and their parents.

"Sherlock isn't here." John muttered and the priest smiled uncomfortably, saying they could wait awhile longer.

Fifteen minutes passed and Sherlock still hadn't arrived.

"Are you sure he's going to come?" Eleanor asked John gently. "He did make it clear he did not approve of this marriage. I'm not trying to be insensitive, dear, but do you think maybe he decided he didn't want to be here?"

John shook his head. Sherlock would never do that to him. John knew Sherlock didn't want him to get married but he would never _not_ show up at his wedding.

"He'll be here." John said firmly and Eleanor sighed, standing and saying something about going to check on Mary and Harry.

* * *

"Can't you go any faster?" Sherlock demanded. They were slowly trying to navigate Piccadilly and the traffic was incredible.

"I'm doing the best I can," the driver said shortly. Sherlock sighed, checking his watch. It was already twenty minutes passed two.

"Here." Sherlock thrust a one-hundred pound note at the driver and jumped out. He could run faster than this and so he did. Taking the fastest route he knew, Sherlock arrived at the church five minutes later. He burst into the small room and John jumped up when he saw him.

"Where have you _been_?" John exclaimed, standing.

"Traffic, construction," Sherlock panted, trying to catch his breath. "I ran."

"Ran from where?"

"Piccadilly."

John raised an eyebrow.

"Well, come on, let's not put this off any longer," Sherlock said, taking in a deep breath of air.

"Okay," John said shakily. _Now_ he was filled with nerves.

"Oh, relax." Sherlock said, a bit disgusted. "It's just a wedding."

"Right." John said, glancing out of the door. He caught the priest's eye and he came in.

"Are we all set to go, then?"

John nodded.

"I'll just let the bride know and we'll get this show on the road."

John paced nervously until the priest came back.

"You'll wait up here," he said to Sherlock. "Harry will come up with bride after John seats Mr. and Mrs. Watson."

Sherlock nodded and John glanced at him nervously.

"You'll be fine. You love her, go marry her already."

Perhaps not the most tactful way to say he somewhat supported the marriage (and _somewhat_ was stretching it) but it was what John needed to hear. A smile appeared on his lips as he followed the priest out to where his parents were waiting. The priest signalled the music player, who began the procession for John and his parents, Eleanor on his arm.

John led them to the front pew and kissed his mother and hugged his father before joining the priest up. Sherlock and Harry came down the aisle, Sherlock looking disgusted by the woman on his arm. They parted ways and went to their respective sides of the alter.

And then.

The moment he had waited all his life for. The pipes and drums (he was a soldier, after all) struck up their salute and the doors at the back of the church opened again and _there_ was his bride.

John felt his eyes well with tears as kept eye contact while Mary walked down the aisle, escorted by her father. She really was beautiful.

Mary made it to the alter and John went down to meet them, taking her on his arm up to the priest.

The ceremony itself was on the short side and everything went on without a hitch, which made John sigh with relief. He had half expected Sherlock to express concern over the marriage when the priest asked if there were any objections. But he kept his mouth shut, handed the rings over when they were needed, and signed his name on the register.

However, as family and friends applauded the newly married couple as they went up the aisle together, Sherlock was not smiling. He didn't offer his arm to Harry and she had to walk quickly to keep up with him as he followed John and Mary.

As far as Sherlock was concerned, he'd done his duty and now all he wanted was to go home … his home now, not his and John's. John would be moving out.

221B had lost an occupant and Sherlock had lost his best friend.

It had taken years longer than Sherlock had thought it would for John to finally abandon him. Of course, that just made it hurt that much more … which just proved that love was a defect in the losing side.

And while he had won the game, he certainly didn't feel like a winner.

**Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the interest in the story, I'm glad you're enjoying it! This has been part one of two chronicling John and Mary's wedding and Sherlock's response. **

**Please review – they encourage me more than I can say! Especially now as I'm struggling to write **_**anything**_** … **


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